


Unbound by Death

by sheepythesheepy



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Gen, One Shot, Pyrrha Nikos Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29136450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepythesheepy/pseuds/sheepythesheepy
Summary: Jaune Arc was weak, but he refused to be a coward. If Pyrrha meant to die for hope, then he figured his place was right beside her. After all, what are partners for? An AU wherein Jaune escapes the rocket locker and returns to aid his partner; at least, to the best of his abilities. Arkos One-Shot.
Relationships: Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Unbound by Death

**Author's Note:**

> Good day. This is a re-post of my work from FF with some minor edits. I'm only re-posting this in an effort to continue polishing the one-shot as I write the AU that features it as a prologue. I figured that, on its own, it could work.

_For it is in passing that we achieve immortality._

“Okay, I think I have Glynda’s number.”

Pyrrha barely hears him fumble with his scroll, her mind still in the vaults under Beacon, back inside the pod, futilely hammering at the unyielding steel. She replays the scene over and over, all the while trying to control her breathing.

First came the recollection of pain. When the arrow pierced Amber’s heart, Pyrrha felt like she’d been torn in two, her consciousness lost amid the stormy death throes of the Fall Maiden’s withering soul. It was a monumental struggle, trying to recall just _who_ she was. _Was she Pyrrha? Or was she Amber?_ The dying Fall Maiden had obviously clung on to what little life she had left, attempting to wrest from Pyrrha her very _being_ in a bid to, once again, survive an altercation with Cinder. _Again, was she Pyrrha? Or was she Amber?_

Then, as quickly as the pain and confusion had come, they vanished, only to be replaced by a sense of nothingness – the quietness of death. For a brief moment, Pyrrha felt like a part of herself had gone and died, leaving behind a void that could, seemingly, never be filled. It was ironic that even as she’d been fighting to survive the Fall Maiden’s intrusion into her very _being_ , Amber being well and truly dead still made her feel hollow and incomplete. _Why had she agreed to this again?_

However, that feeling of emptiness and sudden doubt would immediately pass as Cinder chose that same moment to turn her attention to her partner. Reality came rushing back with a vengeance.

Jaune almost _died_ and she’d been unable to help him. _If that fireball was any stronger_ … _no_. _Thoughts like these get people killed_. But what _if_ he’d died? What if his shield had not been able withstand the powers of a Maiden? After all, it wasn’t so long ago that legends such as the Maidens and their powers were just that – _legends_. How strong was Cinder now? The thought alone terrifies her. She looks at her partner, mind returning to the present. His hands are shaking as he thumbs through his scroll, desperately looking for anyone that could help.

“Pyrrha? What was all of that?” His voice is shaking, almost on the verge of a breakdown. Pyrrha does not even know where to begin. Beacon was under attack, they had no contact with any of the professors, and the Fall Maiden had just been murdered. It is all too much to process. Behind her, deep under the tower, the sounds of Ozpin and Cinder battling only adds to the direness of their situation. _No help is coming_. She needs to steady herself, immediately turning to one of the only people she’d come to rely on since entering Beacon.

Pyrrha takes Jaune’s hands into hers and breathes, deeply. His grip tightens around her clammy hands as he tries to give her a reassuring smile. They needed a plan. Even a simple escape route from the academy would do. After all, the headmaster was right. They would only hinder him if they stuck around.

“We should head towards the airship docks. Maybe there’s still some plan for evacuating Beacon.” Pyrrha can only nod in acknowledgement. Trust Jaune to keep a somewhat steady head throughout all this. _Everything was still going wrong, though_.

Before either could take a single step, an explosion from beneath the tower rocks the earth. Twin gazes fall upon Beacon Tower, just in time to see Cinder ascend the structure using the powers of the late Fall Maiden. There is no sign of their headmaster. Pyrrha’s blood runs cold.

“But…Ozpin…” Jaune is in shock, his knuckles white as he holds onto her hands like a lifeline.

“There’s no time,” she mutters to herself. Destiny, fate, whatever it was, Pyrrha could only conclude that it was cruel. Like the eve before any of her tournament battles, a dread calm overtakes her. She knows what she has to do. Her partner is still confused but she doesn’t have the time to explain. _Time was what he…no…they needed_. Their headmaster had chosen her and, despite how her life had panned out, she knows that this was her destiny – to become a beacon of hope even if it meant death. She would give all of them the time they needed, hopefully.

_Back to the problem at hand_. She looks down. Their hands are clasped together, steadying each other even as the world crumbles around them. _Partners_ , _huh_? When it came to feelings of the heart, Jaune Arc was perhaps the densest person she had ever had the pleasure of knowing. But when it came to literally everything else about her, he had something akin to a sixth sense. Maybe that was why they were great partners? _Only partners though_. Despite that frustrating yet endearing dynamic of their relationship, it still surprises her that he quickly manages to catch on to what she is about to do. _Jaune and his damned timing_. Pyrrha can only give him a small smile.

“No…no, Pyrrha, you can't. You _saw_ how powerful she is! Pyrrha, I won't let you do–” His cry is cut off by her lips against his. It’s warm and it’s everything she imagined it to be. She would have wanted this to happen before all of this mess, but life was never easy on the Mistrali champion; _again, this damned timing_. Pyrrha does not dwell on the what ifs, instead, she cups his face and deepens the kiss. For the first time, she wants to be selfish. Ozpin told her that by accepting Amber’s powers, she may not ‘return’ as the same Pyrrha Nikos; that maybe, some of Amber may remain within her. That fear, of losing oneself before actually living _for_ oneself, had shaken her more than she cared to admit. Down at the vaults, she’d had the conviction to go through with it. Now, with her death looming in the distance, Pyrrha could not find the same strength.

_If I am to die, I want it to be as Pyrrha Nikos_. _If I am to love, I want it to be as Pyrrha Nikos_.

Would she have been the same person after the transfer? Would she have been the same person that loved the dorky Jaune Arc? Those questions no longer mattered. Jaune was here and she would not let the opportunity pass. _Allow me this, at least, before the end_. Pyrrha kisses him knowing that this was the last time they’d see each other. If nothing else, he had to live. She tries to convey everything she couldn’t say to him in that one act of intimacy, physical contact substituting those words of her heart she would not dare voice aloud. Jaune, for all his faults, manages to reciprocate; and, for a moment, they are both happy.

_Then_ she hears the wyvern Grimm and the happiness is short lived. She has to fight to push him away. Pyrrha feels the tears coming but she stamps out the urge to cry. She needed to get him to safety before hesitation and longing made it impossible. It is cold, keeping him at arm’s length, and it takes everything in her not to ask him to stay. _Live, for both of us_.

“I’m sorry.” For once, Jaune realizes too late what she is about to do. Using her semblance, she pushes her partner into the rocket locker and inputs coordinates for somewhere in Vale. _Anywhere but here_.

“Hey! Wait! Stop, stop! Pyrrha, please don't do this!” She cannot cry, instead finding solace in the fact that he would live. As the locker takes off, exhaust hot against her skin, she turns away and does not look back. _Wait for me, Cinder_. _Destiny calls to us both_.

* * *

Jaune wants to puke. Using one’s scroll while trying _not_ to reacquaint oneself with the day’s lunch should be an achievement in and of itself. He’d barely been able to communicate to Weiss that they needed to help Pyrrha. Hopefully, team RWBY would pick up on the urgency of his request. The thrum of the rocket propelled locker makes it hard for him to concentrate, his thoughts going back to Pyrrha. How could she face Cinder alone? Pyrrha was his partner. They should have gone together, his ineptitude aside. Jaune knows that by the time the locker dumps him in Vale, it would already be too late. Jaune Arc is weak, but he is not a coward, the baffling kiss only giving him more of a push to come back for her. Life has given him many regrets, but he does not want Pyrrha to be one of them.

Peeking through the slats, it looked like the locker had yet to leave the grounds of Beacon; while it was indeed a rocket, it was a surprisingly slow-going trip. Steeling his resolve before he could second-guess himself (and before his motion-sickness could incapacitate him), he imagines the resulting pain his next action would most likely bring. _The things I do for_ _her_.

Taking a deep breath to still his shaking hands, he unsheathes his sword, stabbing Crocea Mors downwards with all the force he could muster. There is a momentary screech of splitting metal followed by a violent lurch as the engine explodes. He wrenches the impaled blade for good measure, working at the fragile circuitry beneath his feet. The entire locker groans as its systems begin to fail. Without anything to propel itself, the locker-turned-death trap drops like a rock. He fights off the beginnings of another puking session as gravity decides that up, down, left, and right were all relative. _She did say I had a lot of Aura_. He prayed that it was enough to cushion his fall.

Jaune barely catches a glimpse of the hard stone pathway before the locker crash lands a few hundred meters away from the tower.

Jaune was wrong. It hurt even more than he’d imagined. Even with Aura, his body feels like it got ran over by a herd of Grimm. _And is that puke_? The locker itself is a mangled mess, pieces strewn about the courtyard, trailing the long groove that marked its rapid descent. Yet, despite its violent landing, it remained intact – the smell of vomit within, notwithstanding. Nothing seems broken but Jaune isn’t in any hurry to repeat any of this. Collecting Crocea Mors from the remains of what was once the rocket locker, Jaune begins following after his partner. In the distance, Beacon Tower stands menacing. Flashes of light and what sounded like a dragon roar could be heard from atop the spire. He quickens his pace, occasionally glancing at his scroll to monitor Pyrrha’s aura levels. A single thought crosses his mind as he nears the foreboding structure.

_Please let me not be too late_.

***

It was a long trek. With the elevators broken, Jaune had to make do with stairs that seemed to go on forever. Each straining step and labored breath was punctuated by the sound of fighting above. Another fell roar of the wyvern Grimm that he and his partner had seen earlier has the hairs on his arms standing on end. _Faster_ , _gotta get there faster_. Clearing the final landing, the sound of battle becomes even louder. Taking a shaky breath Jaune realizes that somehow, he is even more nervous than he was, ten flights ago. What if, even with his help, they could not defeat Cinder? The poison of doubt begins to seep in, hesitation niggling at the back of his mind. Hearing Pyrrha’s cry of pain snaps him out of his stupor, giving him that last bit of courage to push forward. _No turning back now_.

By the time Jaune reaches the office of Beacon’s former headmaster, Pyrrha is on her knees, an arrow embedded in her ankle. The Mistrali warrior is clearly in pain. There was no way Pyrrha could continue fighting. He breaks into a cold sweat at the thought of not having a partner to back him up. Alone, he could barely take on Grimm. Against the headmaster’s killer? _This is suicide_. But seeing her defiant even when faced with her imminent death awakens something in him. What was a small voice in the back of his mind turns into a dull roar. He does not pay attention to what Cinder is saying, feeling for the first time in his life an indescribable heat in his core that urges him forward to battle. It overtakes him, stripping him of all thoughts of self-preservation. Even knowing how this very same person had probably killed Ozpin does not faze him. All he could see was Pyrrha and how she needed his help, _now_. His Aura flares up, lending him speed and strength in this one moment of need. Brandishing his sword and heater shield, Jaune breaks into a sprint as he closes on the witch.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Pyrrha’s eyes widen in surprise, seeing the blonde boy running up, sword raised. Jaune feels every bit a hero of legend.

Of course, in the stories, heroes manage to actually fight their last battle, ridding the world of evil just in the nick of time. They would fight fiercely, all the while solidifying their legend with each blow dealt to the enemy. Their very own ‘fairy tale ending’ is their reward for overcoming all the obstacles thrown at them. Years of fictional training would finally pay off, supposedly. However, this was not a storybook scenario, Jaune was barely a warrior, and Pyrrha was not some damsel in distress. While he _was_ one of the worst hunters to ever walk the halls of Beacon, his partner still _is_ one of the best warriors the academy had to offer, and she had just been soundly beaten by the very person he was now charging. It was also probably not a good idea shouting out his arrival when he had the advantage of surprise.

Cinder, even with her back turned, needed only a moment to register Jaune’s presence before a huge stream of flame was snaking toward him. He brings up his shield clumsily, startled by the quick retaliation, only managing to block the wash of flame after his Aura had taken the brunt of the attack. The power behind the magical fire makes him feel like he is being cooked alive inside his own armor.

“And who are you?” Amber eyes examine his panting form, critically. “Another child who believes in their own legend, perhaps? Maybe you can last longer than her.”

“I’m her partner and I didn’t climb all those stairs just to lose to someone like you!” He tries for banter but fails to conjure even the beginnings of a smirk; it is false bravado, born from fatigue, desperation, and his own inadequacy. Jaune knows it. Cinder knows it as well. It didn’t help that his legs felt like jelly; he was literally quaking in his boots.

“Empty threats from a pathetic excuse of an Arc. You are nothing but an insect. Leave me and Ms. Nikos to our destiny.”

Jaune grits his teeth and swallows a retort, the casual dismissal hurting more than the flames did, previous. He always had a problem with his self-worth. Team JNPR knew his issues well, even helping him work through them little by little. But now, tired, sore, and very much in the midst of danger, all of Jaune’s resentment pours out in a tidal wave of emotion. Recklessness overtakes his sense of reason and, without a second thought, all he wants to do is make the witch take back her words.

Summoning a burst of speed, he closes the distance between himself and Cinder. If she chose to ignore him then he would _make her_ look. Shield up, he lets Crocea Mors do the talking. Gleaming in the firelight, the sword swings in an arc above his head, hoping to catch her off balance while she continued monologuing. He almost believes that the swing would connect. Almost. Cinder blocks the clumsy overhand with laughable ease, conjuring what appeared to be obsidian swords out of thin air, pushing the surprised warrior back. Not allowing Jaune to catch his breath, twin lances of fire follow his retreating form as he maneuvers back in a bid to reassess her strength. He leans his shoulder into one of the lances, watching the flame dissipate across his shield. The metal is searing to the touch, but he knows that getting rid of Crocea Mors’ scabbard-shield would more than likely kill him; pain be damned. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair fills the office as he narrowly avoids the second lance of fire. _This isn’t looking good._

Cinder is agile and it is only a heartbeat later that the distance he’d painstakingly made between them, closes. She wields her blades expertly, keeping him on his toes as he tries to intercept the dizzyingly fast sword strikes. He knows that she is toying with him if her smirk was anything to go by. Unfortunately, he did not have the same luxury of not taking this fight seriously. Trying to remember the lessons Pyrrha’d ingrained in him the moment he’d accepted her help atop the school roof, Jaune barely manages to keep Cinder at bay. All the while, she is chipping away at what little Aura he had left. She was the mountain, and he was the smallest of molehills.

Before long, his limbs begin to feel like lead, his breaths are ragged, and a cut above his right eye is bleeding and obscuring half of his vision. He was tanking hits with the hope of preserving his Aura for her magical attacks, but it all proved futile. Her physical blows hit just as hard. Jaune knew that it was only a matter of time before he is overwhelmed – either by exhaustion or a sword through his belly. Cinder’s next horizontal swipe leaves him open and he sees her prepare for a dual overhand blow. _There_ , _an opening_! In a moment of alacrity and desperation, he takes it. Both of her blades swing downward in a bid to overpower his defense, and he leans into the blow. Bracing his shield arm by curling it against his head, he accepts the dual strike. She is strong but he has the stubbornness to match her strength. Grunting in exertion, Jaune wills his legs not to fold. His ears are ringing from the resounding clash, but he still has the presence of mind to note that Cinder’s blades are now both occupied. Sweeping his sword arm forward elicits a gasp from the witch as he lands a glancing blow on her person. Her Aura activates and absorbs any damage the swipe would have inflicted. If anything, the momentary victory only served to anger her even more.

“An insect trying to play hero,” her eyes were burning. This was not looking good. “No more games. I’d thought killing you was beneath me, but now, you will die before _her_.” Cinder refers to Pyrrha with such venom that he’s almost flattered that the witch had chosen him to die first. _Almost_.

He gulps. Cinder is looking at him menacingly, no longer smirking – she was serious now. It did not help that he knew the last attack had probably put him well within the red when it came to his Aura. _No backing out now_. 

He places himself between Cinder and Pyrrha’s now prone form. He risks a glance back to check on his partner and his heart immediately sinks. Pyrrha looks like she’d gone a hundred rounds with all of the tournament teams, solo. Their eyes meet and the sadness he sees only cements in his mind the fact that they were both probably going to die tonight. A few paces behind his injured partner lay the remains of Miló. Seeing it so broken reminds him that he was still very much _in_ a fight.

_Crap_.

Before Jaune could reorient himself, he hears the whistle of an arrow and suddenly, pain. Just above his shield arm, one of Cinder’s obsidian arrows now protruded. His entire side goes limp, sagging as his strength seems to momentarily leave him. But the shield never falls, pain keeps him alert. Where was his Aura? With horror evident in his eyes mirrored only by sadistic glee in his opponent’s, he and Cinder come to the same conclusion: he was finally in the red. Once more, she closes the distance between them. She feints with one of her blades and Jaune falls for the trap. He tries to bring his sword up to block but, instead of batting it away, Cinder catches the blade with her hand. A feral grin appears on her face as she reenacts what she’d done to Miló; Crocea Mors begins heating up. Her hands are glowing, channeling heat into the worn blade. Jaune could only watch in horror as one of his family’s treasured heirlooms succumbs to the strain. The blade breaks, snapping in half with a loud crack. The chances of their survival were dwindling by the second and, without a sword, it may as well have been zero. Things were looking _grim_ , no pun intended.

Jaune tries to shove her away using his shield but Cinder is already moving. Instead of granting him the dignity of a final melee, Cinder opts to put some more distance between them. Jaune is now weaponless save for his shield. He is out of options and out of time to improvise. It was either flee or stand his ground, and his opponent knows which choice he would be taking. Jaune bites back a grimace.

Cinder starts charging a fireball that was, worryingly, looking more and more like a miniature sun with every passing second. The room’s temperature spikes and that sense of being cooked inside his armor returns. This was not going to be pleasant.

The release of the massive ball of energy generates a strong pushback of force, powerful winds buffeting Jaune as he tries to brace himself behind his shield. Unforgiving fire speeds toward him and he knows he cannot dodge; not with Pyrrha right behind him. The flame collides against his shield in a deafening explosion, and it feels like his arm has been dipped in molten lava. This is accompanied by a feeling of ripping and, for a moment, he thinks that his arm is just simply, gone. Waves of pain bring him back to reality and he lets out a strangled cry. He can taste copper. The shield, a relic of a bygone era and the last of his heirlooms, visibly disintegrates along with the bracers of his shield arm. He sees his flesh curl in on itself and it feels like a thousand knives are flaying him at once. The abuse endured by his arm renders it completely useless, hanging as it did at his side – limp and dead. It is a miracle that it hasn’t fallen off entirely. Jaune fights back the tears in his eyes as he sees his mutilated appendage. Half blind, weaponless, bleeding, and charred, his legs finally fail him, collapsing backward in agony. This was it; he had not been able to save Pyrrha. A final failure to add to his already lengthy list. He wants to weep but his body is too tired for even that small act.

Before he could pass out from the pain, the feeling of calloused hands cupping his face from behind, brings him back. Blue seeks out green and it is only a short moment later that his one good eye is staring back at the worried eyes of one Pyrrha Nikos. He thinks himself crazy but, right now, she looks even lovelier than when they danced together all those weeks ago. Jaune gives her a smile. _She is beautiful_.

* * *

Pyrrha looked at him; truly _looked_ at him. She caresses his face while fighting back her tears at the sight of his battered body. Even after everything, Jaune answers her worried gaze with a smile. _Stupid, stubborn, Jaune_.

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t have shoved me in that locker. You know I hate flying.” She would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. Instead, what comes out is a strangled chuckle as she bites back the sobs that threaten to escape.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. He manages a shake of his head and instead takes one of her hands into his. His broken sword lies forgotten.

“Not your fault. I chose to be here.” Tears were flowing freely now but Jaune just keeps smiling – that warm smile that she knew was only ever for her. She remembers their first and only kiss, her thoughts linger on what was and what could have been.

_I guess, you're the kind of guy I wish I was here with. Someone who just saw me for me._

At the end of it all, Jaune was here, _with_ _her_. She remembers what Ozpin told her before she accepted the responsibility of Amber’s powers.

_There's no guarantee this transfer will work. And there's no telling if you will be the same person if it does_.

Seeing Jaune now, she is grateful that the burden no longer falls to her. With Amber’s powers stolen, she is free to be herself even if it was for a scant few moments. But none of that had mattered to her partner, anyway. Jaune, in the many moments they’d shared together, never saw her as the Invincible Girl that had to avenge Ozpin and the Fall Maiden. He had come for her – _Pyrrha Nikos_. Happiness envelops her but with it, the guilt of dooming the one person she had allowed herself to love. She had wanted him to live for them both. The locker was his chance at a life beyond the shadow of Pyrrha Nikos but, instead, here he was, dying alongside her. He knows her well enough that he picks up on her destructive train of thought.

“An Arc never goes back on his word, you know.” His tone is calm, labored but reassuring. “We’re in this together, _partner_. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” He grins, blood staining his teeth, and she wonders where his newfound confidence comes from. Her grip on his remaining hand tightens and she _knows_ , this is the end for them both. She manages a watery smile and leans down to plant a final kiss on his bloodstained lips. Her whole life she’d been alone – cold and isolated from most of her peers. Finally, even if these were her last moments on Remnant, Pyrrha was no longer alone. Jaune had singlehandedly made sure of that.

“Touching as this is, I have a destiny to fulfill and a debt to collect.”

Looking up, Pyrrha sees Cinder picking up the broken Crocea Mors. The witch probably thought it fitting, poetic even, to end them both with the same blade that dared to defy her. Instead of facing the woman responsible for the fall of Beacon, she wants Jaune to be the last person she sees. She smiles back at him, playing with the tips of his matted hair. Stuck in their own little world, they are happy; both of them are ready to welcome death.

* * *

Jaune feels her warmth under him. Pyrrha has his head propped on her lap, favoring him with a smile that reminds him of why he came back. _Pyrrha Nikos_ – his best friend and his partner. Life was cruel, stealing from them a future that promised happiness; that _something_ more that had eluded them ever since the dance opened their eyes to each other’s feelings. The warmth of her smile almost lulls him into a false sense of contentedness. In a moment of weakness, he almost accepts their mutual end. _As long as it’s with Pyrrha_ , Jaune thinks to himself. The scoff of Cinder Fall interrupts his musings.

Gone is the pleasurable haze in an instant, and in its place, anger. Life _was_ cruel. Pyrrha deserves more than what she has been dealt, this he knows well and true. Giving his mangled arm a glance, he knows it is too late for him. Already, he feels death calling to him – that sweet voice promising him an eternity of rest. But for Pyrrha, there is still a chance.

“You didn’t put up much of a fight. Are you really an Arc?” Cinder tuts, approaching them with what remained of his family’s sword. “A pity. Who knew you would die so easily.”

Turning to Pyrrha, Cinder’s eyes light up with glee. “Watch closely, little spartan. This is the end.”

The broken sword stabs at Pyrrha’s kneeling form and Jaune sees red. As if injected with Aura stimulants, Jaune finds in himself a second wind. Time slows to a crawl and, in the back of his mind, a memory resurfaces unbidden. It was the day he’d asked Pyrrha about what she’d done to unlock his Aura when they first met in the Emerald Forest. He remembered her embarrassed face as she recounted the words, ones she’d been taught for as long as she could remember.

***

_“Now, close your eyes and concentrate.”_

_“Uhh…okay.” Jaune feels her hand on him and a warmth begins to surround them. He doesn’t know what was happening, but he was glowing!_

**_For it is in passing that we achieve immortality._ **

_“Pyrrha?” They are glowing brighter, and it takes everything in him not to bolt. Was this the forcefield?_

**_Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death._ **

_“It's all right. I used my Aura to unlock yours, but the energy that protects you now is your own.” She favors him with a smile – one of many he would come to cherish._

**_I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee._ **

***

Jaune remembers. Stifling a cry of pain that threatens to come out, he pushes against Pyrrha’s grip, shoving his partner backwards and rising to meet the thrust of Crocea Mors. He sees only Cinder Fall, the monster responsible for their aborted future, and his rage boils over. The blonde boy does not notice the white glow that now envelops his frame.

“Impossible…”

Jaune intercepts the thrust meant for Pyrrha, encasing Cinder’s joined hands with a vice-like grip, halting the sword’s trajectory a hairsbreadth from his torso. The pain is unbearable, his severely damaged appendage protesting against his exertions. Exposed muscle flexes and weeps blood but the young hunter remains steadfast. _I have to hold on_. While the office crumbles and burns around them, the two figures remain locked in place, neither giving ground to the other.

**_…and by my shoulder protect thee._ **

Despite Jaune’s newfound strength, the blade begins inching forward slowly. Without a second thought, he uses what is left to him, shielding Pyrrha with his battered body. He feels the blade pierce his chest plate, parting skin and puncturing a lung that steals away what little breath he’d been holding. The wind is knocked out of him, blood pooling in his lungs as he fights to stay conscious. From behind, he hears _her_ cry out in protest, a shout filled with such sorrow that it threatens to break his own resolve. But he knows he _cannot_ falter – not at such a critical junction.

Cinder thrusts the sword deeper, the broken blade digging at his flesh without so much as a flicker of Aura to stop its advance. He was, after all, using whatever he had left to prevent himself from budging. Blood pools at his feet as the blade continues to burrow itself deeper, only stopping when the cross-guard hits his chest plate. He struggles not to slip as he fights to keep the witch from advancing. Aching hands relinquish their hold on her wrists, instead circling Cinder’s torso in a death grip. He pushes her backward, Crocea Mors twisting at an odd angle – a side effect of their painful embrace. It feels like he is ready to split in half at any time. He keeps Pyrrha’s smile fresh in his mind and draws strength from it. A shout of defiance escapes his lips and his parody of death hug slowly inches away from his stricken partner.

Amber eyes meet his and he sees both anger and puzzlement. He too is stunned. He should not be able to do this without Aura, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“STEP ASIDE!” Cinder struggles against his grip. She tries to burn him away, channeling fire into the broken blade, but it is all for naught. Feeling an absolute sense of calm descend on him, Jaune holds his stance, steadily pushing the witch back. He needed her away from Pyrrha, repeating the mantra to keep him steady and moving.

“JAUNE!” It is a pained cry. He looks over his shoulder, seeing Pyrrha struggling to crawl towards him. “YOU CAN’T!”

He remembers saying the same words to her when she shoved him inside the locker. _How the tables have turned_ , he thinks. He now understands why she did what she did. Maybe it was his turn to be selfish? Jaune can only smile in resignation. He tries to tell her without speaking that it was going to be okay, that she was going to live. Another voice is shouting now, calling his name.

_Good_ , _Weiss came through_. He wants to see their would-be saviors, but his eyes are only for Pyrrha. Finally, he was useful for once. No longer was he the same boy stuck to a tree; no longer in need of a savior, it was his turn to do the saving.

A white light begins to engulf the room. Cinder struggles against him but he holds her in place. To Pyrrha he mouths a silent goodbye. _This is it_.

_I’m sorry, Pyrrha_.

A flash of white, then darkness.


End file.
